


Abandon

by Professor_Fluffy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man 3 - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Fluffy/pseuds/Professor_Fluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve returns to the tower after New York, Tony Stark is a broken man, and it's going to take more than platitudes to get him back on his feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> I probably shouldn't be writing this with everything else I'm working on right now,  
> but this really wanted to be written. More to come. Major Iron Man 3 Spoilers. Ratings and Tags will be updated as I add to this.

I still can’t sleep. It doesn’t matter what I do, I wake up soaked in sweat, gasping for air, hands twisted in the sheets. Pepper returned to our bed for a few nights after I destroyed the suits. Having Extremis gave her some sense of security, but it didn’t last. Once I helped her return to normal, the distance between us started to grow again, like a slow twisting ache. 

“You can’t start this again!” There was a hysterical edge to Pepper’s voice that I’d grown familiar with, and I could feel the overwhelming need to flee, the tightening in my chest that preceded a gut-wrenching wave of anxiety, my skin felt cold and clammy. I resisted the urge to speed-dial Harley and flee straight back to Tennessee for another week or ten. Running away wasn’t going to solve a damned thing.

“I don’t know... Pepper. I don’t know what to do! I created clean slate for you... for us. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted us to be happy,” I twisted my hands around the screwdriver anxiously. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the look on her face anymore. Judging. Always judging.

“Yes, clean slate. As in, you get to start over, from scratch, you don’t have to rebuild the suit,” her eyes were wide and exasperated.

“You won’t come to bed, you treat me like I’m a bomb that’s going to go off. If you don’t want to deal with me, I understand, most people don’t! I can fucking build friends Pepper, if you can't deal with me, but give me something... I destroyed myself, for us!” I flinched when I realized what I’d just said. Destroyed myself, not the suits. I grabbed the repulsor I’d been working on and threw it across the room, completely ignoring safety protocols. 

Pepper flinched. “Tony, this, thing, me sleeping on the couch, it’s temporary. I’m talking to someone about it. I have nightmares about that thing looming over me--”

“It’s not a thing Pepper, it’s me! The suit and I --”

“You are not a suit of armor, Tony! Why do we always come back to this? I love you. I don’t love Iron Man. Iron Man isn’t real”

I fisted my hands in my hair. “You can’t just love half of who I am! Why are you making me do this?” I didn’t remember dropping the wrench or shoving myself into the corner, where I stayed, rocking back and forth, drawing in dragging breaths, I didn’t remember her leaving me there to fend for myself, because she _‘couldn’t deal with me right now.’ _I didn't blame her, I couldn't deal with myself right now. Everything was a blur until someone thrust a brown paper bag in my face and told me in a deep, calm voice to breathe, refusing to leave when I lashed out, snarling that I could take care of myself. I only vaguely remembered stumbling away, up to the penthouse, retching up clear liquid into the toilet, my stomach already empty from days of neglect. Someone following me, holding my head up as my body tried to purge the non-existent contents of my stomach over and over again. I touched the gaping hole in my chest where the arc reactor used to be, and thought once again about how wrong Bruce was.__

Someone whispered, "Tony, what did you do?" quiet and horrified, a perfect contrast to the volume of the voices screaming inside my head. I knew the second he opened his mouth, just knew that it was Steve fucking Rogers holding me over the toilet, a look of horror on his face as he stared at the empty slot where the arc reactor used to sit. I jerked my shirt closed over my chest. There are the monsters you can see, and the monsters that live inside you, and I knew in that second, curled around the toilet, ignoring Steve and his misguided attempts to keep me from passing out on the bathroom floor and choking to death on my own bile -- alone, always alone, even with people all around me -- which one I’d prefer to be. I tried to take a swing at him, but he deflected easily, dragging me up off the floor and carrying me into my room like I weighed nothing, the son of a bitch. 

I watched him from the bed, my throat raw from retching. He tossed his shoes off to the side and sat in the big armchair in the corner. “Get the fuck out, Steve,” I coughed. 

“No. The way you are now. You shouldn’t be alone,” he said, closing his eyes.

It hurt so bad, to hear someone saying the words that I needed to hear from Pepper. I wanted to kill him. It was a good thing the suits were gone, because my flare of temper was hot and all encompassing. In that moment, I hated him with everything I was. “Then where the fuck were you four weeks ago?” I spat. 

His eyes flashed.

I stared at him blankly, until tiredness crept in and I couldn't keep my eyes open another minute. It was oddly reassuring to share the room with someone I trusted to keep me safe while I slept, and weirdly, I realized that the thought wasn't an exaggeration. The man might be a stubborn asshole, but after New York, I knew without a doubt that I trusted every member of my new team with my life in a way that I normally only trusted Rhodey. I found that for the first night in almost a month, when I closed my eyes, I didn't dream of dying in a far off galaxy.


	2. Help I'm Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up alone, in the middle of a panic attack, and wonders when everyone will stop leaving him.

I woke up on a sharp wave of panic, alone. He left me. Please. Not again. _I can’t breathe._ The blankets are smothering. _Deep breath._ I’m back in the suit at the bottom of the ocean shelf with a wire wrapped around my neck. _Drip. Drip. Drip._ Clawing at my neck. _Get it off._

“Sir.” 

Can’t breathe. _I’m going to drown._ Get it off, Jarvis. 

“Sir, it’s 3:42 a.m. Captain Rogers is still here. Are you with me?”

He repeats the message four times before I hear it. And then I’m sucking in air, sharp and sweet, deep gasping breaths. 

“Shall I fetch Captain Rogers, sir?”

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, head between my knees. “No,” my voice sounds like I've been swallowing gravel. “No, J, don’t. Don’t...”

“Sir?”

“I was throwing up earlier?”

“Yes, you’d been drinking again.”

“Not that much.”

Jarvis’ voice was gentle. “Sir, I believe it was probably a combination of the lack of food, the alcohol, and the stress. You should probably attempt to get a few hours of sleep.”

“I can’t. I can’t...” I started trembling violently. “I... why do you always leave? Why do they...”

“Sir?”

“Forget it... What the hell is Rogers doing?”

“It would appear that he's making a phone call.”

I frowned. “Who could he possibly be calling? It’s 3:00 in the morning.”

“I’m sorry sir, it is my belief that Captain Rogers would want that information to remain confidential.”

Jarvis being evasive meant it was something I wouldn't like. I stood, leaning heavily against the bedpost for a moment, and staggered toward the door. I could hear Steve speaking softly in the living room. Who the hell was he talking to at 3:00 in the morning?

“... how long has he been like this?” I could almost picture the frown line in the middle of Steve’s forehead, like the fucking Mariana Trench of disapproval. Uptight bastard.

“I understand that Colonel, but where is Ms. Potts? He needs someone...”

“I know, I understand that, but you don’t know how bad...”

“Talking about me?” I asked, pushing the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall. Three a.m. was suddenly an excellent time for a drink, and it so happened Casa Stark wasn't a commercial bar, there was no such thing as closing time. _My asshole team leader checking in with my best buddy, just what I fucking needed._ This called for something _really_ strong. I fumbled through the bottles looking for the right one.

Steve swung around with a guilty expression on his face. “He’s awake, I have to go. No, no, I understand. Thank you Colonel. I’ll call you later.” 

He was next to me in an instant, plucking the glass out of my hand and grabbing the bottles, setting them off to the side.

I swung around. “You don’t get to take those away from me. Why don’t you scamper back to your room like a good little soldier and leave me the fuck alone?”

“Tony. You look like shit. Jarvis says you haven’t eaten more than a handful of chips in almost two days. You’re probably dehydrated. Look, I made you something.” 

And he had. There was a plate piled with two thick sandwiches, some sliced celery with peanut butter and cream cheese-- like he wasn't sure which I’d prefer, and a heaping bowl of potato soup with grated cheese and fucking bacon bits. How the hell had he made all of that without waking me up? I was fully prepared to ignore the feast, and boot him out on his ass, when my stomach growled low and insistent.

He smiled, like he’d won. 

“I don’t want it.”

“Don’t be an ass.” 

I refused to look at him as I grabbed half the sandwich. it was cut into triangles; the same way Jarvis used to make them. I felt something twist in my stomach, but I ignored it, stuffing half the sandwich in my mouth in one giant bite. 

Steve sat down on the sofa and I followed, dragging the coffee table close enough to set my plate on. I wolfed down another enormous bite.

“Take it easy, huh? It’s not going anywhere. I can make you more.”

“I thought you left,” I blurted around a mouth full of turkey and rye. 

“No. I thought you might be hungry, that's all. I wasn't going to leave.”

I nodded like it made perfect sense for someone to be awake at 3:00 in the morning worrying about feeding me. Like I didn't think he was full of shit. But I ignored him chatting with Rhodey behind my back, a freebie. Just this once. Who the fuck was I kidding? The man made really good sandwiches. 

I was about halfway done before I looked up. He was leaning back, watching me, his hair was poking up like he’d fallen asleep for a little while. I pictured him curled up in the chair. It couldn't have been comfortable. He was a weird guy. 

When I finished the sandwich and drank the glass of milk he’d set out for me, I staggered back toward my room. He didn't follow, just watched me from the sofa, waiting. 

“You taking off?” I asked, suddenly wary, seconds from panicking again. _Why.. why...? Fuck._

He must have seen something in my face because he started to stand, fingers whitening around the arms of the chair. “Not unless you want me to go?” He blurted, unsure.

I exhaled. “Stay...” It sounded too needy and pathetic, even to my ears. “Or go," I added with a disdainful sneer. "I could care less, Rogers." Then softer, "Thanks for the food.” I expected him to leave. If Pepper left me... If Jarvis could be taken from me... why the fuck would Steve Rogers want to spend the rest of the night here sleeping in my shitty chair? But he watched me with far too much understanding and followed me to the bedroom, folding back down into the chair. 

“I shouldn't have left you alone... before, but you were sleeping soundly. I just thought you might need something to eat,” he said earnestly.

Why the hell was he apologizing to me? I should be apologizing. I’d probably kick him out in the morning, and get as far away as possible. I didn't need more people seeing me like this. But I knew that the panic attack had been partially triggered by him leaving me alone. The worst ones usually were, which was problematic all things considered. Deep down, that was exactly what I wanted... right? To be left the fuck alone. “Jarvis, please lower the lights.” 

The room dimmed instantly.

He was still watching me from the chair, it looked tiny framing the unreal span of his shoulders. I watched him in the dark until my eyes started to grow heavy. I definitely wasn't begging him not to leave in my head, because only someone broken, and fucked up, and entirely too codependent to function would do something like that. _I am Iron Man, and I don’t need anyone but myself._ I thought of Pepper and DUM-E as I drifted off to sleep.


	3. Back in the Saddle Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes Waffles. Tony gets coffee. Jarvis plays Michael Buble. Things are far from domestic and cozy.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice demanded. I took a hard turn left and tossed my phone on the empty passenger seat. _Steve._

“Voice mode activated,” Jarvis said. 

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” I scrubbed at my eyes, willing my last cup of coffee to keep me alert until I reached the next rest stop.

“I woke up this morning and you were gone.” 

“So? I’m a hypocrite. I know it. You know it. I’ve never denied it. I’m out getting coffee.” _Deflecting._

“Ok, so you’re coming back?” 

It was annoying that he sounded so damned happy about it. “That would be difficult. I’m in Harrisburg." The silence was deafening. "That's in Pennsylvania," I added, trying to be helpful.

“Steve?” I asked, tossing my old coffee cup on the seat next to my phone.

“What are you doing, Tony? That's almost four hours from here.”

“I know, I left around five.” I heard cursing in the background. There were banging noises, and a door slamming.

“Sorry, breakfast with the team. I may have burnt the eggs. Seriously, this isn’t something to joke around with, you were up for almost seventy-two hours, and you're driving across the country on two hours of sleep. What are you thinking? You couldn't even sleep last night without someone in your room. You shouldn’t just...”

“Stop. Please. I’m going to stop you right now.” I jerked the car off the road, hitting the hazards. “You listen up Rogers, and you listen good. You are not my mother. You are not my nanny. You are not my babysitter. You are not going to set limitations on what I can and can’t do --”

“I’m sorry. I overstepped...” Steve said, his voice full of frustration and concern. 

“-- you’re damned right, wait, you’re admitting you were wrong?” I stopped, confused, trying to catch my breath as I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel in a death grip.

“Look, I know a little bit about it. There are nights when I can’t sleep, when I dream about things, and I just need to go. I need to get on my bike and get the heck out of Dodge. I don’t care how, or why, and I really don’t care where I end up, I just need to go somewhere far away, to try and reassert some control over my life. I respect that, I was just surprised when I woke up and you were gone, I shouldn’t have --”

“Don’t be sorry,” I snapped bitterly. “I’m not a good friend. I don’t know why the two friends I have put up with me. I’m terrible at commitment. Pepper tells me that all the time.”

“She’s back, you know.” 

I leaned my head against the steering wheel. “Did she say anything?”

“No. She asked where you were. Said you had a disagreement. That was about it. I was making everyone waffles and scrambled eggs, hoping you’d be back soon. But I guess you won’t be back today, huh?”

“Let me talk to Pepper.” 

Steve didn’t question me. I heard a faint rustling, and then Pepper came on the line. “Tony, where are you?”

“Pepper, I’m really sorry, I need to take a break, get away for awhile. I need a few months...”

“Months? Tony, why?” She sounded shocked. “You were doing so well.”

“That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem. It’s not you. God, Pepper, I love you, but I’m not ok...”

“Tony, you need to come back, this isn’t right. We need to talk about this.”

“Pepper, do you know how many people I would destroy my suits for?” She made a soft choking noise. “You. Pepper. Only you. You said you understood why I wanted the suits, and I can’t blame you for clean slate. I chose to do it. I shouldn’t have, but I did.” I stopped talking to take several shallow breathes and exhaled sharply. 

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice pitched higher. The sound made me grit my teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut. _I’m going to die. I’m going to die. Oh god._ My heart was pounding. I lifted two fingers to my neck. My pulse felt too rapid. My chest hurt. 

“Tony!”

I heard Steve’s voice in the background. “What’s going on?” 

“I think he’s having another panic attack. I don’t know what to do. _I never know...”_

“Tony,” Steve’s said, his voice calm and soothing. “You don’t have to say anything. Just breathe in, slowly. When you feel like you can talk, let me what’s going on, do you know what set this off? Only tell me if you really want to. It’s ok. Just breathe.”

I forced the words between my gritted teeth. “Can’t come back. Can’t look at it...”

“At what?”

“Fuck!” I snapped.

Steve was silent for a moment. I fought against the tremors. “I can’t stay in the tower right now. Not... not below the wormhole... below...” my teeth were chattering. 

“Tony listen to me. You don’t have to say anything else, if it’s not something you can talk about right now. It’s fine. Just find somewhere safe. Can Jarvis give us updates, let us know that you’re ok?”

“He’s clearly not ok!” I heard Pepper say in the background, and then Steve’s muffled response as he covered the receiver. 

“Fine... I’ll, we’ll be in touch,” I hung up the phone before Steve could respond. 

_Build something. Build something. Build something._ My mind screamed. I dug around in the glove box until I found a book of Sudoku puzzles. I spent the next two hours on the side of the road, shivering as I solved one hundred and sixty five sudoku puzzles in rapid succession, until the tightness in my chest finally eased enough to let me drive safely. 

“Jarv?”

“Yes, sir?”

“We’re going back to Tennessee.”

“Itinerary already noted.”

“Good man.”

“And J?”

“Yes sir?”

“Find me some Michael Buble songs buddy, maximum volume, then get me to the nearest hotel. I'm going to try and get some sleep.”

“Yes sir.”


	4. Is Everything a Joke to You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony arrives in Tennessee, where he finally gets some decent rest and gets reacquainted with Harley and Dum-E Jr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Iron Man 3 par Usual.

When I drove through Tennessee, it was about the same as last time, but with less snow and fewer Christmas decorations. It was fall. The houses were decorated with jack-o-lanterns and bundles of flint corn. 

I sat in the driveway at Harley’s house for a good ten minutes before I pulled his number up on my phone. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey kid, it’s the mechanic. Is this how you treat the guy who pimped your workshop? I’m out front. Thought you might want to grab lunch?”

I broke into the house again.

Little Dum-e tried to grab my shirt in his claw. _Fucking adorable._ “Hey buddy, where’s Harley, where’s your daddy? Well I’m your daddy, _technically_ , but where’s the pint sized punk that owns you, huh?”

“Sir, if I might make a suggestion?”

“Lay it on me, Jarv?”

“It’s eleven in the morning on a Tuesday, most children are probably in school right now.”

Well shit, why didn’t I think of that? “That makes sense. He’s bright though, shouldn’t he be done with high school by now?”

“Your confidence is overwhelming, but most children don’t make it out of MIT at your age.”

“Guess he won’t mind if I crash the place then?” I said, grabbing a bottle of Vitamin Water out of the mini fridge. “Next you’ll be telling me he hasn't driven the damned car yet either. I’m going to take a nap on the couch, I know we’ve stopped twice, but I still haven’t slept very well.” Not since Pepper’s text message at the motel six yesterday morning... 

_‘You need a few months away, I need a few months period. I think we should take an actual break. Maybe more than a break. Call me in a week or two, we can talk. And remember, I’ll always love you. - Pep’_

“J, how old do you think Harley should be before someone teaches him the virtues of mixing flavored drinks and vodka?”

“That’s grossly irresponsible, sir. Even for you.”

“I was thirteen.”

“As I said, grossly irresponsible.”

“Calm down, pal. You’ll start sounding like Cap.”

“And I’m sure that’s the worst possible scenario in this situation.”

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, baby." I flipped the television on. What the hell kind of selection did he have down here? I was definitely going to have to work on some satellite reception. I was surprised when I found myself yawning instead of tossing fitfully for an hour. Eventually I drifted into an almost peaceful sleep.

When I woke up about seven hours later, I was covered in a Dora the Explorer blanket, and there was a plate with a thick cut tuna sandwich and pizza rolls sitting next to me. I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and stretched, cracking my back. I was getting too damned old to be sleeping on couches.

“Is this what passes for southern hospitality?”

Harley spun around in his chair and gave me a dirty look. “You think because you made it past the Mason-Dixon line, I’m going to bring you sweet tea and grits for breakfast at six in the evening?”

“It’s not the home cooking, it’s my cholesterol. I can’t eat pizza rolls, they’ll go straight to my ass.”

Harley looked completely unimpressed, he stuck out his lip and pouted at me. “That’s what I've got, so unless you want to go hunting, don’t be a pussy.”

“Who taught you that word? That’s completely horrifying. I don’t want to hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again.” 

Harley smirked. “So,” he kicked his feet back and forth. “What made you come back? I got the impression that you were buying me off and I’d never see you again. Made me all warm inside. Like my daddy came back and split his scratcher winnings with me or something.”

“You had my phone number.”

“The one you changed the second you got back to New York?”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that...”

“I’ll bet.”

_I actually had._

“Listen kid, I’m teaching you a valuable life lesson, everyone leaves in the end. Everyone. If you’re lucky, you might find one or two maladjusted idiots who stick with you for god knows what reason, but for the most part, you should get used to disappointment.”

“Is that why you’re back? Because everyone leaves?”

“I was actually thinking of staying here... for a while.”

Harley handed Dum-E Jr. a piece of wadded up paper and watched him try to drop it over the garbage can. It hit the rim and landed next to ten other similar balls of paper. “Getting better buddy, that one actually hit the side.” Harley smiled. 

I looked away, uncomfortably reminded of that stupid box with the grinch's heart expanding three sizes. Talk about a crock of shit. It would probably make Cap ball his sentimental eyes out. “Look, as I was saying... I obviously can’t be the hobo that lives in your basement, that’s creepy --

“Didn’t stop you last time.”

\-- and I want a vacation, not prison time. So, I need to rent a place in the local area. Are there any cat ladies around here? Someone who won’t notice a hot, reclusive billionaire living in their attic? Maybe someplace I could run a machine shop to make some spending money? A job would keep people from assuming I’m Jeffrey Dahmer or some shit. You know, I live with a guy who looks a lot like Dahmer, he’s had that problem on missions... sorry getting distracted... so, place to live?”

Harley nodded. "Well, I know where we can start anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go into town and pick up the classifieds. You can buy dinner," his voice tapered into a mocking whine, "since you don’t seem to care for your pizza rolls.” 

“You’re a conniving little shit.”

Harley arched an eyebrow. 

“Reminds me uncomfortably of someone I know.”

“Wonder who that could be?”

Harley stopped near the door. “Did you bring the suit this time?”

“Why? So you can snap it's fingers off again?”

“No, I just want to see it fly, for science.”

“Bruce would like you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. No, there are no suits. I got rid of them.”

Harley stopped walking and looked up, curiously. “Was it a girl?”

I jerked to a halt. “What?”

His grin widened. “Well I don’t think you’d do something that dumb unless it was for a girl. Is she pretty?”

“Yes.. wait? I’m stupid. She didn’t make me do anything--”

“So it was a girl," he said smugly.

“It was. Can we be done with this conversation now?” I asked, walking outside as Harley followed.

Harley walked a few more feet then turned so he was walking backward, facing me. “So she left you? Is that why you’re here?” 

“Is my life a joke to you?”

“The funny parts.”

I stopped, leaning on a mailbox, my mind a million miles away, just like that. “ _Oh shit.... shit..._ ”

“What is it?”

“Nothing... Jesus, am I getting old? Do I look old to you? Like ninety? Is my hair getting grayer... Shit, don’t you dare answer that. I’m turning into this guy I know and... why did I even come here? This is supposed to be therapeutic.” 

“Ok,” Harley shrugged. He picked up a handful of leaves and tossed them at me. “Dr. Phil says it’s time to eat.” 

“Yeah, dinner. Dinner sounds good. No more annoying questions and I’ll think about letting you eat.”

“Whatever,"he tilted his head, "you really should be on some pills for your anxiety thing, or you could carry around some lunch bags."

“Oh yeah? Let me see your Ph.D. Yeah. That's right. Didn't think so. Get your ass inside the diner." 

Harley snorted.


	5. Home Sweet....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Goes Shopping + Buys a Cabin in the Woods. Pretty Much an Entire Chapter of Tony and Harley Banter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are silverfish bugs in this chapter, so if bugs freak you out, I guess skip to chapter six.

“What are we doing?” Harley asked.

“This was your idea.” I said around a clearanced screwdriver. 

“I told you to pull and adult Macaulay Culkin?”

I could feel my eye twitching. “Look, I rented a place on the edge of town --”

“You rented the creepy abandoned cabin we tell ax murderer stories about at school --”

I took two deep breaths and knocked fourteen cans of raid into the shopping cart. “-- it’s not safe without the suit. Not one word. Not one...”

“-- you bought that place so.. so people won’t think you’re a weirdo?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“If I were going to.. well I’m just saying, you’re wandering around in a town with a kid who isn’t related to you, it’s kinda creepy. And you're buying boobytraps for your new home.”

“Valid point. But... since I bought you dinner, I'm going to ignore you now. How’s that? Make yourself useful, get me a cinder block.”

“How am I supposed to carry a cinder block?” Harley tilted his head to the side.

“Not my problem. You’ll figure it out.” I watched him walk toward the other end of the store. “That’ll keep you busy for awhile.” 

Ten minutes later he was back. He had a scrawny store associate pushing forty cinderblocks on flatbed cart.

He grinned. “I wanted to make sure we had enough."

I took one step forward, mouth dropping open. 

Harley looked up at the associate. “My dad is the coolest!” 

The sales associate was eyeing the contents of the cart with wide eyes. 

“He’s gonna build me a tree-house, and.. and a terrarium. We just bought a house. Ok, thanks. Bye now!” 

My mouth snapped closed. _What a little shit._

I was almost proud. 

\---

“What do you think, J? Just you and me. Couple of guys. And spiders. And maybe snakes. And possibly racoons.”

“May I suggest you call pest control, sir.”

“Don’t worry cupcake, little lemon pledge will bring this baby right to life.” I tripped over a pile of leaves and tiles that had fallen from the caved in roof.

“Your domestic aptitude never ceases to amaze.”

“Your skepticism is painful, and frankly uncalled for.”

“Harley is outside,” Jarvis said.

I kicked the leaves into the corner. “Great. Get a biometric scan so he can get inside.”

“Or perhaps we could affix a rope ladder to the gaping hole in the roof.”

“You’re tiptoeing honey.”

“I feel it is my duty to remind you that Captain Rogers has left fifteen--”

“Mute.” 

“Woah! This place is a dump,” Harley stepped over a board with five rusted nails sticking out of the rotted wood. “Very child friendly too.”

“No one forced you to come here, did they?”

“No, no one forced me, but _someone_ offered me fifty dollars.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get rid of the silverfish.” I waved my hand at the most infested corner without turning my head. 

Harley picked up a stick and poked at a pile of molded books. Silverfish went flying everywhere. “All right! Gross!” He laughed. 

I twitched, head turning to the side. “Could you not do that. Appreciate it. Do your job. Come on. Chop chop.”

“Now you’re into child labor?” 

“What child labor? You haven't done anything yet.”

He grabbed a piece of paper and used it to scoop a silverfish off the floor, “I think I’ll call you Fred.”

“Hey, that’s gross. Put it down. What’s wrong with you?” 

“You’ll hurt his feelings. Look he likes you.” Harley held the paper out.

I slapped the bug out of his hand and sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands. “Don’t... don’t.” My teeth were chattering. 

“What?” He looked at the bugs. “Do they... do they remind you of the alien things?" He sat down next to me. "I can see that. Like the long silver bodies.”

“You are totally testing me right now. Get rid of the bugs or get out.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Oh shocker! Tony Stark isn’t nice." I snarled. "Read a book. You want your fifty bucks? Amscray, I’m busy.”

Harley shrugged and climbed to his feet. He began putting the bugs in a lunch bag to release into the woods. “Could be worse.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There’s another Cabin about a quarter mile out, it was owned by the local cat lady. She had a whole ton of feral cats, they were everywhere. There are still a fair amount of cats that live out there. The locals bring them food.”

“I hate cats.” I was breathing a little easier. 

“But you have so much in common.”

“Keep working.” Bits of debris were digging into my leg.

“I’m just sayin, you both hate vermin, and you like tuna,” he smirked, "and you're pretty feral. So, does that make me the cat whisperer, since I’m the only one you listen to?” 

“Who says I listen to you? And I don’t come to you for food either. I pay you to get me food. There is a hierarchy here, and you’re breaking it. Bugs. Now.” 

He worked a little while in silence, eventually taking the bag out back. "You want me to come help you again tomorrow after school?"

I climbed to my feet and unfolded the legs on the sturdy metal table I'd picked up at the hardware store. "Yeah, why not."

"You gonna stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, wouldn't want anyone to think I was a weirdo."

Harley snorted. 

"I bought a cot."

"You're gonna be cold."

"Generators, heaters, I've slept in worse." _Don't think about the cave._

Harley watched me for a moment. "Don't be an idiot, mom's on third shift again tonight, you can sleep on the couch. Just fix the roof tomorrow."

My fingers were a bit stiff from the cold air. "Yeah... yeah alright. Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to update, I was finishing the RBB and then I kind of did something to my neck and couldn't turn my head for two weeks. So thank you for being patient. There should be some Steve next chapter! :)
> 
> Also, just to be clear, the "my dad is the coolest thing" was just Harley kidding around/messing with Tony. This is not an adopt/kid fic nor is it going in that direction. Also, Tony doesn't really hate cats. There will be more cats in this story. :P


	6. Frankly My Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony moves in, and finds out there's someone new in town.

Ok, where was I? _Right. Child labor_... giving the kid money to clean my condemned digs. _What?_ I’m not exactly a good role model or an upstanding citizen. That’s why Pep left me. Normal people don’t build bombs out of christmas ornaments. Awesome people do. Again, consider the source.

Here’s the thing, I thought I could do this. And that was my first mistake. Usually thoughts come easily to me, they just kind of unspool, one thing into the next, into the next... then the next thing you know, I’m drunk writing the quantum physics equivalent of the fucking Mona Lisa. Hey maybe that’s where Christine got that painting schtick? 

So I’m out in the middle of nowhere, starting operation clean slate. This time for real. 

When I was a kid, I thought camping was something you did in the livingroom when your butler was humoring you because your parents were off in France. I had a creative mind.

I’d read about camping in a magazine, and I built a tent out of blankets, but that’s where the normality ended.

I decided I had to waterproof the blankets. The magazine said something about the authentic camping experience -- _roughing it in the rain_. So that’s what I did. I waterproofed the blankets.

I didn’t even think of using a tarp, it wouldn’t have presented enough of a challenge. Then I realized... I had this waterproof tent, but no rain, right? What kind of shitty camping trip was that?

That’s what the indoor sprinkler system was for.

By the time Jarvis was done chastising me, I thought he was gonna leave too. It was a natural assumption, I mean everyone else did -- and I said as much, but the stubborn bastard just pulled me into a hug. We spent the next hour in the dark sitting under my completely dry tent fort -- I got that much right -- roasting s'mores in the giant marble fireplace. Not your normal campout I guess, but it was probably the best camping trip I ever took. 

I don’t know what the hell I’d been thinking, planning to stay in the house without heating. I’m glad the kid had some sense. It was about sixty in his basement, and I still woke up with stiff joints. 

I should really thank the kid. If I’d died of hypothermia in the woods, Clint would have never shut the hell up about it at the funeral. Not after all the comments I’d made about Steve. 

I called my lawyer and added a clause to my will. Should I die of hypothermia or ice related trauma, Clint Barton is to receive five truckloads of firecracker popsicles. No note. My Lawyer’s a good guy, didn’t even imply that the request was unusual. That’s why I pay him the big bucks. 

It took two weeks to get everything set up. Two more to start getting a reputation in town as as the eccentric mechanic who lived alone, didn’t attend church on Sundays, but could fix almost anything you set in front of me. A few of the women at St. Mary’s brought me pies and casseroles after I moved in. It made good compost. I mostly stuck to my smoothies, missing Dummy and my boys a little more each day. I’d check in with them on the vid screen late at night when no one was likely to wander by my lab back at the tower. I didn’t want to risk it. 

It took approximately one and a half months for them to send someone after me. I grabbed my jacket off the hook and headed down to Dusty’s bar to tie one on. I’d fixed his jukebox a week prior and he’d promised me free meals and beer on the house for the next month. I think I’d gotten the better end of the stick. 

A place like this was the only place you’d find a stitch and bitch in the middle of a bar, the locals were already half drunk, and one of the women whispered in her best stage voice, “saw him down at Jamie’s earlier, boy was built like a brick shithouse.” They all giggled. “He’s moving up on the hill, about five miles out from Anthoney, the old cat house.”

I took a bite of my sandwich and washed it down with some disgusting Miller swill. “Ladies, couldn't help but overhear that I’m about to have a new neighbor, any of you catch a name?” 

“Frank,” Lana leaned toward me, “Jamie said his name was Frank Grant."

I leaned back in my seat. It was probably nothing. 

“He’s a six foot tall Adonis, blond, with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Just clear azure. You might be in for it though. He drives a Harley. If he keeps you up with that thing, you let Jamie know, he’s not big on renting to troublemakers.”

I slammed the mug on the table and tossed a tip down next to it.   
  
_Steve._


End file.
